


Butterscotch

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Light BDSM, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne propositions Hermione over lollipops, and Blaise suddenly decides he's feeling vanilla.  Hermione should have realized that she was in for some serious sexual politics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterscotch

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a sequel of sorts to [All in a Night's Work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/881848), but this fic can easily be read as a standalone one-shot. 
> 
> Special thanks to my betas: [kendas](http://kendas.livejournal.com/), who inspired the idea in the first place, and I., who whipped this monster into shape. (December 2012)

Hermione sat with her arms folded on the high table, ignoring her drink. She was back at Lisette's again. This had happened five times already. Tonight would be the sixth time that she had let the club's owner, Blaise Zabini, debauch her in ways that sometimes made her stomach turn. She blamed her uncharacteristically adventurous behavior on her heavy workload and the resulting strain on her friendships – but she could not deny she had been driven by curiosity that first time.

Now she just wanted to get outside of her own mind by any means necessary.

She took a tarot card out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand. The card was not meant for divination. The card was meant solely for titillation. That first night at Lisette's, Blaise had put a deck in front of her – an old Italian deck based on the Decameron.

_It's an enchanted deck,_ he had told her. _Flip through the deck until you reach a card that burns your fingers. That's your card. It tells me what you want, even if you can't._

As she looked at the card now, she remembered her initial surprise. She held the One of Swords: a naked woman was lying alone on a bed, her head thrown back in rapture; a sword, as large as the woman herself, was thrust into the mattress, right between the woman's legs.

It seemed to her that the card had taken Blaise by surprise, too. Then again, surprise was as difficult to distinguish on his face as any other emotion.

_I would have thought you’d had enough danger for one lifetime,_ he had mused.

It was true that she’d had more than her fair share. When the war ended, however, so did real, life-threatening danger in Hermione's life. Everyday uneasiness took its place. It was in the uncertainty of her friendship with Ron, which never quite seemed to evolve into anything more. It was in the feeling of being left behind as Harry and Ginny started a family. It was ever-present in the stress and politics of her desk job at the Ministry. Hermione had begun to think the only escape was the pursuit of a more distinct form of danger. 

Blaise said to keep the card and give it back to him when she felt that she had gotten what she came for. Two months later she still had it.

"Good evening, Hermione."

Startled, she looked up to find Daphne Greengrass settling into the chair opposite her. She had seen Daphne here before, but they had never spoken. They had certainly never been friends, but there had never been unfriendly words between them, either.

"Hello, Daphne."

Daphne pulled two lollipops from her red patent leather purse. "Butterscotch," she explained. She ducked her head and gave Hermione the uncertain kind of smile that one little girl gives to another when introducing herself on the playground. "Want one?"

Hermione studied Daphne with intellectual interest. Daphne’s shyness was, without a doubt, a well-orchestrated charade. She had definitely been spoiled by her parents. She had probably been sheltered. She had likely been groomed, decorated, and trained to expect the servitude that such decoration required. But Daphne knew how to exploit a basic human weakness: Everyone remembers their childhood with a bitter pang of nostalgia. Everyone remembers the exact moment it ended. And most everyone, therefore, has an instinct to preserve that innocence in others – maybe even use it to regain some of what was lost.

Daphne preyed on that instinct. Hermione had watched her do so with some amusement when they were at Hogwarts. She suffered no illusions as to why Daphne had been sorted into Slytherin.

"All right." Hermione accepted the lollipop but didn't unwrap it.

As usual, Daphne's makeup was so overdone that she looked like she belonged in a burlesque – drawn-on eyebrows, cherry red lips, fake eyelashes. Platinum blonde hair that was assuredly not natural, set in old-fashioned pin curls. Her appearance was a stark contrast to her comportment: she sat primly in her low-cut robes and nibbled nervously on her red lips.

"I have to talk to you about something," Daphne said. She unwrapped her lollipop and took a long, leisurely lick.

"I'm meeting Blaise in a few minutes." The statement came out in a huff. In fact, he was late, but anything else would have surprised her. He loved to make her wait for him.

"Actually,” Daphne drawled, turning the lollipop over and testing the other side, “this is about Blaise."

Hermione felt a twitch of irritation. She knew that she and Blaise were by no means exclusive, but she wasn't keen on discussing him with the competition – if that's what Daphne was. She couldn’t figure out what on earth they could possibly have to talk about.

"Go ahead," Hermione said, tapping her own unwrapped lollipop stick on the table.

"It's so embarrassing, really. I shouldn't have even come to you about it.” Daphne sighed, a sound of affected uneasiness. “But I felt I should warn you."

Now Hermione was becoming irritated. She realized that she was gritting her teeth. "Warn me about what?" she demanded.

Daphne was looking at her as though she expected a scene to break out between them at any moment. She wrapped her lips around her candy and sucked slowly, finally releasing it with a wet pop. Her eyes darted around the room, and then she leaned in across the table. Hermione found herself unconsciously leaning in, too.

"He wants the two of us,” Daphne whispered, looking scandalized. “Together."

Hermione’s discomfort morphed into shock.

A hint of a blush blossomed on Daphne's cheeks as she noted Hermione's reaction. She sat back up and looked around the room again. "I can't believe we're actually having this conversation,” she mumbled.

That made two of them.

Perhaps Hermione misunderstood. The message seemed clear enough, but her rational mind sought to extricate every possible bit of information from Daphne. "Exactly what do you mean when you say he wants the two of us together?"

The blush was gone, but Daphne's embarrassed expression remained. Hermione could tell she had practiced it. "At the same time,” Daphne hissed as though annoyed, unable to meet Hermione’s eye. “With him."

For a brief moment, Hermione was speechless. She might have even been thoughtless.

Daphne returned to her lollipop, sucking again, and it was now impossible for Hermione’s gaze to not follow the movement. Daphne avoided eye contact. "He mentioned it in passing the other day,” she said.

"He did?" Hermione almost snorted. Yes, that sounded exactly like the sort of thing that Slytherins mentioned in passing. _Hi, Daphne, nice to see you. Say, you wouldn’t by any chance be up for a threesome next week, would you?_

Daphne’s eyes widened. "You mean he hasn't ever mentioned anything like this to you?"

"No,” Hermione admitted. Her mouth was suddenly quite dry. She looked down at her own lollipop. “He hasn't."

"I see."

Once her brain started working again, Hermione found herself overwhelmed with questions. Was this some type of joke? Was Blaise playing a trick on her? Was this all part of his game for tonight? Was Daphne lying to her? Suspicion warred with confusion in her mind, and the whole time, she felt compelled to follow the motion of Daphne's lips and tongue on that damned piece of candy.

"Just for the record,” Daphne whispered, “I like cock."

"Me too," Hermione replied automatically. She felt herself speaking, but her blood was racing so hard in her head that her voice sounded very far away.

"I mean, pussy is okay, I guess," Daphne conceded with a shrug. "You never experimented? In your dorm at Hogwarts, I mean?"

"Er—" No, she certainly had not. She suddenly realized that she wasn't entirely repelled by the idea. She had simply never considered it before.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering if maybe she was the aberration. Perhaps every other girl at Hogwarts did… that… and just never talked about it. Perhaps Lavender and Parvati had always waited for Hermione to go to the library and then pounced on each other. It didn’t seem likely. But what did she know? She had spent most of her time at said library – or hanging out with two boys.

"No, of course you never did anything like that," Daphne said. Then she started giggling self-consciously. "Why would you?" She paused. "I'm embarrassed. I'm leaving now."

"Wait." There went that stranger's voice again, using her mouth. "Surely this isn't something you would consider doing?"

"Well," Daphne stalled, ducking her chin into her shoulder, "only if…."

"If what?"

Daphne giggled again and studied her lollipop, again avoiding Hermione's eye. Her voice was very quiet when she continued. "I might like to have a woman tied down and spread out in front of me, where I could do anything I wanted to her."

It was such a dirty thing to say, and it was said in such a bashful manner, that it made Hermione's breath catch in her throat. Then she saw it. For all her showy giggling and coyness, there was something in the set of Daphne's jaw that hinted at sadism. And the most unexpected thing happened. Hermione found herself getting wet.

Daphne looked back up at her through her fake eyelashes and shrugged. "I like to tease."

A breathless minute passed as they sat there and watched each other.

Then Daphne got up, tucking her red purse under her arm, and drew very close to Hermione. With a playful smile, she leaned down and whispered into Hermione's ear, "I think it might be fun to tease _you_."

* * *

A few minutes after Daphne had pranced off in her four-inch Mary Janes, Blaise sauntered up to the table. He didn’t look her in the eye, but merely stood there with an elbow propped on the table, surveying the lounge with haughty disinterest.

“I want to make love to you tonight.”

She almost choked on the drink she had taken. “Excuse me?”

It was one shocker after another this evening. Had Blaise planned this all out? She wouldn’t put it past him.

“What can I say?” he said with a shrug, finally glancing down at her. There was a smirk playing at his lips. “I’m feeling vanilla. I just want to crawl between your legs and forget about everything. Are you game?”

The look on his face told her that he anticipated her easy compliance. And the infuriating bastard got it, too.

Twenty minutes later, he was wrapped up in her arms, fucking her exceedingly slowly and tenderly. There was no teasing, no holding her down, no dirty talk. She couldn’t figure out if she liked it or not.

It did give her mind time to wander, and it wandered straight to Daphne. Hermione wasn't a fool. She understood why Blaise wanted them both at the same time. They were polar opposites. It would be like her getting Blaise and Malfoy at the same time. Or Professors Lupin and Snape – that had been a running fantasy in fifth year. Or Professor Lupin and Sirius. Or Charlie and Sirius.

Well, no, that last one wasn't the same, but it was fun to think about nonetheless.

Blaise’s lips worked on her neck in a slow, open-mouthed rhythm that made her whole body arch towards him. He nibbled on her earlobe and whispered to her about how good she felt. Then he rested his cheek on her sternum and put all of his focus into the gentle, measured rhythm of his hips.

It was really… weird.

The movement and closeness lulled her into a sort of trance. Should she mention her discussion with Daphne? It seemed like a good time. Maybe. As Blaise ground down on her, she closed her eyes and let her subconscious do as it pleased. It brought forth an image of Daphne, all dolled up in one of her girlish dresses with the little nipped waist and flared skirt. Daphne was about as feminine as one could get without becoming pure saccharin. There would be no pretending that she wasn’t with a woman.

“Still with me, Granger?”

She opened her eyes to find that Blaise had halted his movements and was staring down at her, face as impassive as ever.

She swallowed. “I was talking to Daphne Greengrass tonight.”

“Oh yeah?" For a split second, he looked aggravated, and she realized how rude it was to talk about someone else while they were… doing this. But then the look evaporated. "What did she want?” He slowly started moving again, kissing a path up her jaw to her ear.

“She said….” Hermione waited, hoping he would guess. Or demand she tell him. Or something. But he just pushed her hair to the side and sucked gently on her collarbone. Hermione pressed her eyes shut and steeled herself. “She said you wanted both of us at once.”

Blaise stopped dead still. She didn’t open her eyes. She wondered if he was smirking. She wondered if she would look up and find amusement on his face, or maybe even desire. Then she was too curious not to look.

It was the same guarded expression that he always wore, but he still wasn’t moving. “I'm only human, Granger. Can you blame me for finding the idea appealing?”

He watched her closely for a moment, his eyes narrowing. When she didn’t speak again, he nuzzled against her neck and returned to those lazy, maddening thrusts. She thought maybe they came with a little more force now.

“How exactly would that kind of thing work?” she wondered aloud.

“I could draw you a picture,” he whispered. “Fuck, you feel so good tonight.” Yep, his rhythm was definitely picking up. He was excited about this idea, and his excitement made her excited.

“Have you ever been with two women before?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He didn’t answer her, and she had a strange feeling that he wouldn’t tell her if he had. And if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t want to admit it. Blaise kept secrets about his secrets.

She sighed heavily. “I just really don't see myself down on my knees fighting some other girl for a chance to suck your cock.”

He chuckled against her shoulder. “Yeah, I get that.”

She smiled, thinking of the things she might like from two men, which any male on earth would find ridiculous and off-putting. Like feeding her grapes and turning the page of her latest read for her.

Then another thought arose, and her smile disappeared. “Would you fuck her?”

Blaise paused. “Daphne would never let you see that. She has…. ahh, do that again… control issues.” 

Hermione snorted. She wondered what Blaise considered ‘control issues.’ So far, he had not achieved orgasm unless she had her ass in the air for him – and then only after the kind of extended foreplay that almost made actual sex redundant. Maybe control issues were a Slytherin thing. No, that wouldn’t explain why she’d been here five times, silently begging Blaise to take control over her.

“She said she wanted to tease me,” Hermione whispered.

Another chuckle escaped Blaise’s throat and tickled the shell of her ear, but this time it had a more desperate quality, and the bed was starting to squeak. “And I want to hold you down and let her have her way.”

That image was too intense. Hermione groaned, her whole pelvis jerking off the bed to meet his thrusts. She could just imagine lying between Blaise’s legs, him pinning her arms back while Daphne… well, she wasn’t really sure what Daphne would want to do.

“I've never thought about anything like this before,” she told him.

One of his hands was in her hair now, fingers caressing her scalp. He bent down to kiss her on the lips – a soft, teasing kiss that worked in counterpoint to his thrusts, which were only growing in speed and intensity.

“She can do things to you that I don't feel comfortable doing,” he whispered in a husky voice. “And I want to watch it.”

Hermione was puzzled. She had a pretty good idea of what women did in bed, and Blaise was skillful enough at those things. “What kind of things?” she asked.

“She can say things to you that I can't say,” he went on, ignoring her question. “Not without sounding like an arsehole, anyway.”

“Never stopped you before,” she deadpanned, but the tone was lost in a gasp as he gave her an especially deep thrust.

Then he stopped, pulling out, and she recognized the look in his eyes. It never failed to send her spiraling.

“Enough,” he panted. “Roll over. Hands and knees. Now.”

So much for ‘ _making love_.’

* * *

A few weeks later, after Hermione had time to reflect on the events of that night, she felt so stupid. Daphne wasn’t shy or embarrassed about the prospect of being with both her and Blaise. She had clearly been leading Hermione along. The lollipops, the shy glances, the initial hesitation – it was all an act, and Hermione had let herself fall for it because it was invigorating to be led along like that. And Blaise’s sudden hankering for missionary-style sex had been a calculated move, too. She had played right into their hands – and worst of all, she had enjoyed every moment of it.

Actually, the worst thing was that she had finally agreed to let Blaise arrange the tryst. The moment had come, and now she found herself outside of one of the subclub rooms of Lisette’s, her hand curled around the doorknob. She closed her eyes and whispered the password, feeling the tickle of magic as the locking spell lifted.

The room was breathtaking. The walls were upholstered in emerald-colored damask silk. An enormous hand-knotted rug spread beneath her feet, covered in green and black serpentine motifs. A crystal chandelier hung above, but the lighting in the room came from hundreds of enchanted candles floating around the perimeter. The bed was a mass of sage green pillows and silk bedding, and it had been charmed large enough to comfortably sleep at least five people.

Blaise and Daphne were lying on the bed, on opposite sides, fully clothed. They had propped themselves up on the numerous pillows and looked for all the world like two friends who had just gotten comfortable to watch a movie. Neither of them made a move to get up when she closed the door behind her and repeated the password to lock it. Both, however, were giving her the same smirk. She became anxiously aware of the fact that she was the movie, and it was about to start.

“What took you so long?” Daphne inquired with a pout.

Hermione pressed her back against the door. “Draco Malfoy held me up. For some reason, he seemed especially interested in Blaise’s plans for this evening.” Hermione wondered whether Blaise had been the puppeteer behind that little detail, as well.

Daphne sat bolt upright, sinister grin in place. “Ooh, what did you tell him?”

“I told him it was none of his business.”

“Oh,” she said, her face falling in disappointment.

Blaise had not moved, but the smirk was gone. He almost looked bored. Hermione would have given anything to know what he was thinking at that moment.

“Take off your socks and shoes, Granger,” he commanded.

She clearly heard what he didn’t say: _That’s a very expensive rug._ She toed off her shoes and socks with a huff. When she looked back up, Daphne had gotten up from the bed and was approaching her.

Hermione swallowed nervously. She had no clue what to expect here. Daphne’s black charmeuse robe fell open to expose a complete lingerie set beneath – corset, garters, knickers, and stockings – all in crimson red. It was stunning. She was stunning. As Hermione’s gaze swept over all of that silk and lace, she thought it inconceivable that anyone might _not_ be attracted to such an intensely sensual sight. She immediately felt inadequate in her usual off-work winter uniform of corduroy trousers and jumper. She was glad she had at least opted for some special black underwear.

“I dressed up just for you,” Daphne said. She stood in front of Hermione, biting on her lip, and Hermione wanted to believe it was true. Her tone brought to mind the self-conscious voice of a virgin presenting herself to her new husband. Hermione was startled to realize that Daphne wanted her approval.

Hermione wet her lips. “You look lovely,” she whispered. She meant it, too.

Daphne’s smile was blinding. “Why don’t you step away from the door, Hermione?” She closed her fingers around Hermione’s hand and pulled her gently to the center of the rug.

Blaise would never begin a sentence with the words _Why don’t you_. It was an interesting change. Hermione looked to Blaise as though for some sign of how to proceed. He was now also sliding from the bed and slowly stepping towards them. The white silk of his open robe billowed slightly with his movement. The white silk of his trousers did little to hide the outline of his erection. His dark skin, next to all that white, appeared to have been designed to entice.

In a few moments, they would both be standing right next to her in the middle of the room, and this would really be happening. She tried not to tremble in anticipation.

Daphne was quite petite, she realized – maybe just over five feet tall. She wore heels that brought her eye to eye with Hermione. Daphne’s hands tugged at the hem of her jumper. “Let’s take this off,” she whispered.

As though in a dream, Hermione lifted her arms and helped Daphne pull the garment from her body. Daphne tossed it aside and hummed in what appeared to be fascination. Her eyes fell to Hermione’s breasts, and then her hand reached out and hovered just over the lace cups of her bra. 

Hermione’s eyes darted to Blaise. He leaned back against the nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest, just watching. She felt a wave of confusion crash over her. She didn’t know what to feel. She wasn’t sure she wanted Daphne to touch her. She wanted Blaise to show some sign of… anything, really, but his face was a blank canvas. As she watched him, she felt Daphne’s hand cup one of her breasts. She closed her eyes. This was okay. This was fine, she told herself. Daphne’s thumb rubbed circles around the nipple, which immediately sprang to attention.

“What are you thinking about?” Daphne wanted to know. Her voice was soothing.

“Blaise.”

Daphne giggled. “Should I be offended?”

Hermione could tell it was a rhetorical question, but Daphne’s hand lifted. Then both hands were on the waistband of her trousers. “These, too,” Daphne said sweetly.

Hermione watched Blaise. Blaise watched Hermione. And Daphne unbuttoned and unzipped Hermione’s trousers and urged her to step out of them. The barriers were getting thinner by the moment. Hermione was relieved to see a trace of emotion finally cross Blaise’s face. His gaze swept up and down over her as she stood there in her underwear, and his eyelids seemed to grow heavy.

“The view’s nice from this side,” Daphne said. She was behind Hermione now, unhooking her bra, sweeping the straps from her shoulders, and Hermione was just standing there letting her do it. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Blaise.

He sauntered forward at last, looking more imperious than ever. Hermione felt a sudden stab of resentment for him. Wasn’t he just so special? He had two women standing there ready and waiting for him, and he didn’t have to do a damn thing. He didn’t even have to lift a finger to undress her. She gritted her teeth, wishing she could tell him just what she thought of him at that moment.

He must have read the anger on her face because his hand cupped her cheek just as Daphne worked her knickers down. “What’s the matter, Granger?” he asked. And then the bastard raised one eyebrow and smirked at her.

“Nothing,” she spat.

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound like nothing,” Daphne said with another giggle.

A slow smile crept across Blaise’s lips as he ran his thumb in circles over her cheekbone. He was feeding off of her discomfort. The angrier she got, the more he smiled.

“She's been quiet so far,” Daphne said. “She was never this quiet in school, was she?”

For some reason, Daphne’s taunting didn’t bother her nearly as much as Blaise’s silence.

“Well?” Blaise prodded, his thumb moving to pull at her lower lip. “Do you have anything to say?”

Hermione tossed her hair back over her shoulder and leveled him with a glare. Actually, there was something she had been wondering about, and now was as good a time as any to bring it up. In fact, it might be the best possible time.

“I want to know if the two of you have had sex before,” she asserted.

Daphne laughed. It wasn’t a giggle this time. It was full, rich laughter.

"She's jealous, Blaise! How sweet.” Then Daphne’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling Hermione back against her. Her lips were at Hermione’s ear. “Of course we have. Blaise didn't tell you? I tied him up and rubbed my—"

“That's enough, Daphne,” Blaise cut her off. The line of his jaw was hard. “She doesn't need details.”

Hermione tried to focus, but it was getting more difficult. She was now completely naked and pressed back against Daphne, and Daphne’s fingernails lightly stroked around and around one nipple without touching it. Hermione felt the electric beginnings of arousal in her pelvis. But this was important.

“She tied you up?” Hermione asked Blaise.

“Trust me when I say it was a one-time thing.” Now both of Blaise’s hands were on her body as well. One curled over her hip, and the other curled around the back of her neck. “In case you haven't noticed, Daphne has a cruel streak.”

There was a giggle at her ear, and then her nipple was on fire. Daphne had grabbed it between her thumb and middle finger and squeezed brutally. Hermione panted, caught entirely off guard by the assault. She looked to Blaise for reassurance, but there was nothing but a gleam of quiet interest his eyes. Then she saw something there that made her start to panic. He enjoyed her pain. 

“We're going to have so much fun, Hermione,” Daphne purred to her.

Hermione felt her mouth go dry. She had never seen a look like this in Blaise’s eyes before. His words came back to her: _She can do things to you that I feel uncomfortable doing._

“Easy, Daphne,” he murmured, but his eyes gleamed even more brightly. 

Well, now she understood why he’d told her to use the room's password if she wanted to stop at any time during the evening. Her nipple ached, and just as she was thinking that maybe it was an isolated incident, pain shot through the other one. This was not the playful squeeze to which she was accustomed. It felt like Daphne was trying to twist her nipple off. Her body shook from the indignity of it.

Blaise had both hands around her face now, studying her as though she were some type of exotic animal. 

“You mean Blaise doesn't give you a little pain with your pleasure?” Daphne asked.

“No—OUCH!” Daphne was alternating now between scratching and squeezing both nipples. “No, not really.”

Blaise preferred to dole out pain by withholding pleasure for seemingly infinite amounts of time. She'd never imagined he might feel uncomfortable about giving real pain. She wondered why he did. He was visibly excited by Hermione’s anguish, and Hermione guessed she must be utterly depraved, because the look in his eyes was making her wet.

Entirely without warning, Hermione felt a long fingernail gently nudge her, directly on her clitoris. She cried out, doubling over at the intensity of the unexpected touch. Daphne had managed to catch the most sensitive spot on the tip of her fingernail, and pain flooded Hermione’s entire pelvis. She breathed heavily, trying to figure out if she could handle it – and if she wanted to. 

“Ooh… responsive, isn't she?” Daphne whispered.

Blaise steadied her and then immediately took her jaw in his grasp. To add insult to injury, he began easing his thumb between her lips. She pressed her lips closed, and he laughed at her. At that moment, she very nearly went running from them. Maybe this was what Slytherins sat around doing for fun, but she liked for the pleasure-pain ratio to sway more toward pleasure.

As though on cue, Daphne’s fingers eased between her legs and started gently rubbing through her wetness. And there was no way that Daphne was going to let that little fact go unannounced, was there?

“She’s soaking wet!” Daphne exclaimed, like a child saying, _Look at the pretty picture I drew, Mommy!_

Blaise ran his thumb over and over her lips, still testing them now and then to see if she would allow him to breach the barrier of her teeth. Hermione stood firm, though Daphne had now started a rhythm with her fingers that had Hermione’s hips bucking appreciatively.

“Open up, Granger,” Blaise whispered. His face was once again impassive. 

Her mind raced. The act of fellatio – or even its mimicry – was an unusual power struggle. It was circular. The more she debased herself, the more aroused Blaise would become. And the more aroused he was, the more power she had. She could appreciate the irony. And she convinced herself that this was the reason she opened her lips and sucked his thumb inside.

His eyes immediately darkened. In their time together, Hermione had come to realize that nothing turned him on like the invasion of his partner's mouth. She knew this because he actually limited that kind of contact. It tested his control, and his control was his most valued possession – more important to him than even his beloved club, and the club was his life. He began working his thumb in and out of her mouth, hissing slightly when she increased the suction. And now she was feeding off of his arousal.

“Do you think she likes having her mouth full?” Daphne mused. She had stopped touching Hermione and circled back around to stand beside Blaise. She cocked her head to the side and studied Hermione. “Maybe you should give her something a little more substantial. What do you think, Blaise?”

He pulled his thumb away and then ran it across her oversensitized lower lip.

“I think that’s up to her,” he responded with a smirk.

Then Blaise and Daphne were both silent and still, and Hermione shut her eyes tightly. She wished one of them would order her to her knees. It would be so much easier if she were forced to degrade herself like that – but no, they both wanted to see her subjugate herself of her own free will.

Fine. Circular power, she reminded herself. She would test his control. She shakily got down on her knees and reached for Blaise’s waistband. She released the drawstring on his trousers, pulled out his cock, and licked it from base to tip, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see either one of them staring down at her. Then she took him in her mouth and proceeded to work him just as she knew he liked it.

“What a well-trained slut,” Daphne whispered.

There was a certain reverence in her tone that sent a jolt of arousal through Hermione. Curious, she looked up through her lashes to find Blaise with his head thrown back and Daphne leaning with her cheek against Blaise’s arm, watching Hermione curiously.

“Well, Blaise?” Daphne asked. “How does it feel?”

He looked down at Hermione, groaning as their eyes met. He gently cupped his hand around her head – not to guide her, like usual, but just to touch her. “I have to hold back,” he said, jaw clenching. “I want to fuck her throat.”

At that confession, Hermione found herself taking him deeper just to prove that she could. She closed her eyes and slowly bobbed up and down, feeling the nasty tickle of saliva dripping down her chin. She used her hand and sucked until her cheeks were hollow, anything she could do to hear him make those quiet groans. 

Then she felt Daphne's fingers curl around his balls, just under her chin. Blaise reached out to steady himself, but there was nothing to catch him, and he stumbled for a moment. Blaise Zabini stumbled. With a sudden thrill, the thought occurred to her that this might be his first time with two women. He would be really pissed off if he didn’t get to fully enjoy it. And that thought just made her suck even harder.

"Ooh, just look at her face," Daphne squealed. Hermione looked up at Blaise defiantly then, slowing her motion to a deliberately teasing pace. In a strange and sudden fit of kinship with Daphne, Hermione did something she had never done in this situation. She looked straight into his eyes and started rubbing his cock around on her face. Then – and she would never know what had inspired such a dirty thought – she spanked her own lips with the tip of his cock. Then her tongue. Then licked, then spanked all over again.

It worked. Blaise jerked, again nearly stumbling. Daphne offered him nothing to reach out for. On the contrary, she moved away from him, behind Hermione, and pulled Hermione's hair back away from her face, giving Blaise an unobstructed view. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. Hermione returned to sucking and bobbing with more enthusiasm than ever, and she felt a thrill of joy when his pelvis started to tremble.

"What's the matter, Blaise?" Daphne taunted him. "Afraid you're going to blow your load before we've even made it to the bed?"

"Stop it, Daphne." He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice strained. His eyes took on a glazed appearance that Hermione didn't think she had ever seen on him.

Daphne laughed at him. Then, in her sweetest voice, she purred to him, "I bet you would just love to shoot off all over Granger's face, wouldn't you?"

Then the most amazing thing happened. Blaise pulled away and spun around, away from them. "Fuck," she heard him mutter again.

Daphne giggled demonically. "Hermione, I think he liked that." She bent down and placed a soft kiss on Hermione’s temple. "Couldn’t have done a better job myself."

Blaise was bending over the foot of the bed with his back to them, palms flat on the mattress to steady himself. Hermione felt power surge through her. She was surprised to realize that Daphne was the one calling the shots here. At the same time, Daphne took such sweet care of Blaise’s pride. She didn’t command him, just gently nudged both of them toward the action she wanted them to take, taunting them along the way. It occurred to Hermione that Blaise, for all of his posturing, might be enjoying letting someone else run the show for once. She wondered if he would ever admit to such a thing. She wondered if she might enjoy slipping into Daphne's role sometime.

“What do you want, Daphne?” he inquired, still breathless. Hermione noted with interest that he moved to tuck himself back into his trousers.

“I want us to get on the bed,” she replied cheerfully, and at once, Blaise turned and pulled Hermione to her feet, guiding her to the bed. He wasn't so gentle anymore. She watched appreciatively as he shrugged off his robe and climbed onto the bed. He lay down on his back, the silk trousers a mockery of modesty. They clung to his now wet erection. She let herself be pulled down on top of him, her back to his chest. When she pressed back against him, she could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat against her upper back. It was racing.

Then he took her arms and stretched them up and around his neck. A few seconds went by with him breathing deeply behind her, and then she felt his muscles relax and heartbeat slow. “Don’t even think about moving your arms,” he commanded.

Hermione felt suddenly apprehensive. There was nothing like getting into bed to hammer home the reality of what they were doing here. Daphne sauntered toward them, shedding her own robe. Again Hermione let her gaze roam over all of that red lingerie and the curves beneath it. Daphne stopped and began removing some of it.

She stepped out of her heels and lost a good four inches of her meager height. She unhooked the garter straps and slid the stockings off. And then she hooked her fingers in the sides of her knickers, watching Hermione's face as she shimmied out of them. Hermione didn't know what to think or feel. She had obviously never been audience to a striptease before. But Daphne's actions were not blatantly seductive. In fact, she seemed to bear traces of that same uncertainty that had launched this encounter. 

Only her corset remained. The red looked undeniably wicked on her, especially in contrast to the coy look in her wide eyes. “Hermione,” she said, her face a mask of forced solemnity, "now I'm going to do everything I can to make you come.”

Hermione felt her heart rate pick up. She felt irrationally nervous. She supposed it was classic fear of the unknown. She watched as Daphne crawled onto the foot of the bed and proceeded towards them on her hands and knees.

"Do you know what I want from you?" Daphne asked, a faint smile crossing her lips.

"No." Hermione realized she was breathing heavily. She had no idea whatsoever of what Daphne might want from her. She couldn't even imagine it.

Daphne shot her a look of pure sadism. “I want you,” she drawled, “to not come.”

Blaise chuckled. “Nice one.”

“I might not be able to help it,” Hermione said. She didn’t mean to be defiant. But there were certain things guaranteed to make her come. Like telling her she couldn't come.

“Oh, you'll help it,” Daphne said in a sing-song voice. At that moment she looked like the sweetest possible embodiment of demon spawn. "If you know what's good for you."

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hermione demanded, feeling a rush of panic. She didn't know if she was up for any more nipple torture.

Daphne pushed Hermione’s legs apart and knelt between them. She tapped Hermione lightly on the nose with the tip of her index finger. “Let’s just hope you don’t have to find out.”

Blaise chuckled again. He was really enjoying this. Hermione did not, however – under any circumstances – appreciate this kind of uncertainty. She wanted answers. She opened her mouth to demand them, but Daphne simply moved her index finger over Hermione’s lips to shush her.

“Shh. All you have to do,” she said, as though she were explaining something to a child, “is not come.” She shrugged, as though she didn’t understand what the problem was. “And if you’re going to argue about it, then Blaise will have to gag you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” Hermione said firmly. The tables had suddenly turned, and she wasn't feeling so powerful anymore. She was feeling the exact opposite of powerful.

“I didn’t think so. Now just relax.” She giggled. “Well, better not relax too much.”

Blaise seemed to be really amused. Hermione shook with the vibrations from his chuckling. Out of nowhere, her mind formed a strange notion of all of them sitting around their Slytherin dorms, devising new and innovative forms of sexual torture and trying them out on each other for fun. Daphne leaned forward, her corset-clad breasts brushing against Hermione's bare ones, and got right up in her face. Hermione didn't think she had ever been so close to another woman.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her panic turning desperate.

She could feel the butterscotch breath on her lips when Daphne chuckled. "I'm thinking."

Hermione blinked several times, trying to catch her breath. This suspense was killing her. "What are you thinking about?"

Daphne pulled back slightly and stared down at her lips. Then she pushed that bushy hair out of the way and leaned in to whisper in Hermione's ear. "I thought I might want to kiss you."

Blaise didn't make a sound, but she could hear his throat work on a swallow. She could definitely feel his interest poking her at the base of her spine. Then his fingers started moving down her arms. When he reached her breasts, he gently rubbed his thumbs over her hardened nipples. Hermione felt it happening, but she could focus on nothing but Daphne's hot breath. Daphne's lips pressed into the sensitive skin just below her ear and then started working down the side of her jaw, all very wet and soft. 

She couldn't believe she was about to be kissed by a girl. She couldn't believe she wasn't more freaked out about it. Actually, she was a little freaked out. Daphne's lips hovered over hers for a long moment, and then Daphne took Hermione's bottom lip between hers and sucked. Hermione did what came naturally. She bucked her hips upward against…. This was all very strange. She registered Blaise's hands on her breasts and his breath in her hair, but all she could concentrate on was Daphne's lips, now hovering again, and the painful ache between her legs.

Then Daphne started really kissing her – little, rhythmic nips of her red lips that Hermione found herself chasing. The kiss slowly deepened, and when Hermione got that first caress of Daphne's tongue, she lost it. She wanted friction, and she didn't care where it came from. She bucked up and found that Daphne had cleverly situated her thigh right there for this exact purpose. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around Daphne's thigh and started mindlessly pumping her hips. Daphne hummed into the kiss. Hermione suddenly felt the need to hold onto her, to pull her closer.

"Have you forgotten so quickly, Granger?"

Blaise's voice pierced the haze of her arousal, sounding unusually low. He was holding her arms back, his long fingers digging into her biceps. Damn. She had started to move them without even realizing it. She had just kissed a girl. She had just ground herself shamelessly against a girl. And she was sure she wasn't gay, but it had felt really good. Daphne pulled away with a smile, and Hermione felt the exaggerated coolness of the air between them.

"That was so nice, Hermione," Daphne whispered to her, as though she didn't want Blaise to hear. "And hot."

Hermione licked her lips and closed her eyes. "Yes, it was," she agreed. Her voice sounded defeated, even to her.

Without warning, Daphne dropped her head, closed her lips around one of Hermione's nipples, and sucked so hard that she felt it down her spine. She cried out, writhing to try to get away, but Daphne just released it for a moment and attacked again. And again and again.

"No!" Hermione screamed. "No, no, please don't do that again."

Daphne moved to the other nipple and repeated the torture, adding a bit of teeth to the mix. Hermione was bucking her hips again, but this time in an attempt to get Daphne away from her. Daphne merely chuckled and held her down. It felt like Daphne was trying to suck her nipple off of her body and she gave no time between attacks. 

Just when it became too much to bear, Daphne ceased, kissing her way softly down Hermione's belly. Hermione panted, her breasts aching. "Surely you knew you'd have to pay for that kiss," Blaise whispered. No, she had not known anything of the sort. The abrupt shift from pleasure to pain had been jarring. She tried to reconcile the two, but she was so shaken that she couldn't think straight.

As Daphne placed open-mouth kisses along her hipbone and down the inside of her thigh, she felt her body gradually start to relax again. She settled into the rhythm of those kisses, knowing where all of this was headed but feeling much too confused and aroused to worry about it. In fact, she would have given anything for Daphne to move her fingers or her mouth to where she needed to be touched.

Once again, Daphne's fingernail lightly scratched over her clitoris, and she shouted. The sound filled the room. No, no, no, that was not the touch she wanted. It was too intense. Why couldn’t Daphne just give her the touch she needed? She was frustrated in a way that made her skin prickle.

Blaise hummed in her ear. "You're making a lot of noise, Granger."

"She is, isn't she?" Daphne mused.

Without warning, Daphne's tongue flicked over her once, and her pelvis shot off the mattress, another whine ripping from her throat. 

"Blaise," Daphne said, her lips brushing right over the same spot, "perhaps you could hold her down for me?"

Blaise's chuckle now seemed very far away. Hermione felt his hands on her waist, impeding the motion of her hips. "You're going to need to cooperate and hold still, Granger," he scolded her. "Do you think you can do that? Or do we need to take drastic measures?"

"No," she panted, "I can hold still." She did not want drastic measures. She didn't even want to think about what drastic measures might entail. She just wanted Daphne to stop fucking around and touch her properly. She wanted to come. Damn! She remembered that she wasn't supposed to come.

She started shaking, feeling trapped. She needed some kind of escape, but there was nowhere to go. She couldn't move her arms. She couldn't move her hips. She was so painfully aroused that she could feel the ache creeping into her womb. And she couldn't get friction, and she couldn't come. She felt tears spring to her eyes. “Please,” she begged, her throat on fire, “please just give me _something_.”

"Shhh, you're doing so well," Blaise whispered.

Then Daphne ran the flat of her tongue all the way up her slit and started a slow, torturous tease of that small area that was causing her so much pleasure and so much pain. Hermione sighed, reveling in the pressure. The only problem was that it felt so good – which of course would not have been a problem in any other circumstance. But right now, all she could think about was how much she ached, and how dreadfully long she had been aching now, and how badly she wanted to come.

"Can't do it…" she mumbled, breathing hard. Daphne alternated long, heavy licks with short, teasing ones, and Hermione felt her whole lower body start to vibrate with the intensity of the sensation. She was alertly tuned in to the perversity of Daphne’s prohibition. If only she could….

“Bet you want to come, don’t you?” Blaise taunted her, but she was without words to reply.

Daphne slid two fingers inside her, and Hermione banged her head back against Blaise's chest, crying out to the ceiling. She wasn't going to be able to hold it off. Daphne was now, without a doubt, putting everything she had into making her come. The teasing was gone. Daphne’s tongue, her fingers – they were now both working with all of the exact speed and pressure that Hermione needed. She wasn't going to be able to stop it….

"She told you not to—"

But Hermione was physically incapable of holding it off. She released a series of high-pitched moans, breaking away from Blaise's grip to grind herself into Daphne's face, feeling gloriously free of everything. Nothing mattered anymore. Her body was overtaken with spasms, and she rode them out against Daphne's mouth, feeling like she was outside of her own skin.

Eventually she felt Daphne pull away from her. The spasms died out, and then she felt boneless. Blissful. She was sure she could face anything they wanted to do to her. They could bring it on, because now everything was just fine.

"She doesn't take instruction very well, does she, Blaise?" 

Hermione laughed, so far beyond caring about their little game.

"I assume you've devised an appropriate punishment?" Blaise returned.

Hermione's laughter faded away. She looked down to see Daphne stretched out at their feet, propped up on one elbow and wiping the wetness and smeared lipstick from her around her lips.

"I'd like to spank her," Daphne suggested with a bashful smile. Bashful after all of that.

Blaise started crawling out from behind her, taking pillows with him. He tossed them at the foot of the bed and propped himself up on them. Hermione scooted back against the headboard, not knowing what to do. Once again, apprehension sent tingling sensations throughout her limbs. There had been a sense of security in having Blaise right there behind her. Yes, he had held her down, but even that had been a small reassurance to her.

Now she sat with her knees pulled to her chest and watched these two twisted people feed off of her anxiety. The high had not lasted long.

"I don't know," Blaise said at last.

"You mean you never spank her?" Daphne sounded genuinely surprised, as though casual sex without spanking was like a meal with a beverage.

Blaise said nothing. No, he didn't. The only real pain that Blaise ever inflicted on her was the kind that he couldn't control – the kind that came from his own desperation to climax.

"But I know you want to watch me do it," Daphne encouraged him.

The look in Blaise's eyes was frightening. It made Hermione wonder exactly what else Blaise might like to watch. "Yes, I do," he conceded.

"Well, that settles it, then," Daphne said. Once again her voice was cheerful, and Hermione visibly flinched as she moved towards her. She sat back against the headboard, right beside Hermione. Hermione could tell that Daphne was looking at her, but she kept her eyes on Blaise. Part of her was shocked that he was letting this happen. She almost felt betrayed. 

"Let's get on with it, then." Daphne patted her lap. "Bend over like a good little girl."

Hermione laughed. "You're crazy if you think I am going to bend over and let you spank me." She was talking to Daphne, but she was still looking at Blaise. He watched her with interest.

"Don't be silly," Daphne said, all business. "It's just a game."

"No, it's humiliation," Hermione snapped. She couldn't believe Blaise wanted this from her. She felt her face heat with anger.

Daphne sighed heavily. Then she reached up and gently took Hermione by the jaw, turning her so that she could look in her eyes. Daphne's eyes were bright, and the expression in them was surprisingly tender. "He's just curious," she whispered, in a voice so low that Blaise couldn't hear. "He means no harm."

Hermione was startled. She knew that most of what they were doing tonight required a suspension of disbelief. It demanded an ability to step outside of her comfort zone and take on the role of someone else. That was the magic of it. That was why she had come to Lisette's that first night and all those nights afterwards. She thought about the tarot card. Of course she didn't want to be inches away from straddling a double-edged sword. But the image was provocative because the woman on the card closed her eyes and invited the danger while trusting her distance from it.

Blaise set an elaborate stage each evening when he opened the doors to his club. And Daphne had just broken character.

Her mind wandered to Daphne's childlike mannerisms. Hermione's childhood had ended when she received her Hogwarts letter. Her Muggle parents had been as encouraging and loving as always, but with the instincts of a child, she had sensed a shift in their treatment of her. And then she had committed herself to learning all she could, because her parents were no longer the authorities she had always taken for granted. But who was to say that she might not have become Daphne, given different circumstances? 

She wondered if Blaise Zabini, on the other hand, had ever been a child.

As Daphne looked at her imploringly, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. She trusted Daphne, she realized. And she was shocked to realize that she pitied Blaise. She'd be willing to bet that he sensed her pity when they were together. It probably angered him. In his place, it would anger her. No wonder he refused to use her first name.

She turned and looked at him lying there propped on mounds of expensive silk pillows, as vulnerable as any king. All right, she could play this part for him just once.

She crawled over Daphne's lap. She folded her arms in front of her and rested her cheek against them, turning her face away from Blaise. Daphne immediately snapped back into character.

"That's better," she said brightly. Then her hand came down on Hermione's ass so hard that the sound ricocheted off the ceiling.

Hermione bit her lip. Had she really been expecting anything other than Daphne's full engagement? Another slap followed on the opposite cheek. Then another. And another. Every time Daphne's palm made contact, the sting got impossibly sharper. And Daphne did not put a lot of time between them. After twenty or so, Hermione started to get anxious. She supposed this was bearable, but just how long was it going to continue?

Then Daphne stopped. "Hermione," she said, "I want you to tell me why you're being punished."

Hermione gritted her teeth. She didn't want to play along, but she made herself for Blaise's sake. "Because I came when you'd told me not to."

"That's right. And are you sorry?"

"Yes." Hermione couldn't help the recalcitrant tone in her voice.

"Hmm. You don't sound sorry to me."

Daphne let loose with another round of slaps. Now they were really starting to become painful. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. It was one thing to stick her ass out for punishment. It was another to be forced to endure this extreme discomfort. If it continued, she might not be able to keep herself from crying out. Her skin already felt raw.

Then Daphne increased both the speed and intensity, and Hermione clenched her cheeks together, trying to wriggle away.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Daphne demanded.

"It hurts!" Hermione screamed.

"Ah, but you see—" _Smack. Smack. Smack._ "—it makes your arse so much prettier for Blaise."

Hermione turned her head then. She was too curious not to look. He was sitting up now, fully engaged in the sight before him. She was surprised to find that he still wasn't naked, and he still wasn't touching himself. But his eyes were transfixed on the movement of Daphne's hand, and there was no doubt that he was intensely aroused.

Daphne just kept on and on. Occasionally the strikes would get softer, and occasionally she would even stop for a moment to rub the sore skin. But then she would launch right back into it full force. Hermione's eyes started to water, but she refused to make a sound. Honestly, Daphne's hand had to be hurting by now. But if it was, she was not letting it hold her back.

"Ooh, she's getting all nice and red, Blaise," Daphne purred.

He licked his lips. Hermione thought he had never looked as predatory as he did at that moment. She thought he also looked a bit desperate. She considered that the difference between those two things is nothing but a state of mind.

As Daphne continued, Hermione could no longer help it. She started crying out. It hurt so much. She screwed her eyes shut and buried her face in the bedding for a moment. Then she lifted her head, begging for Daphne to stop. She was on fire. Why did Blaise need this? The slaps became nearly unbearable, and she groaned so loudly that she didn't recognize her own voice. All she could do was hope that the next strike would be the last, but it never was….

"Enough."

Blaise's voice was not loud, but it was firm, and Daphne ceased immediately. Hermione's mind felt fuzzy, but she registered the movement of the bed as Blaise slipped down off of it.

Then Daphne was pulling her up, and in a fit of indefinable emotion, Hermione wanted to snuggle up against her. But she didn't. Instead she found herself perching above her on her hands and knees. Daphne pulled at her legs, guiding her until she was straddling Daphne's thighs. Hermione had no idea where Blaise was, and she didn't care. Daphne was stroking her hair and whispering to her about how sweet she was.

"Here he comes," she said at last, her voice rising loudly enough for Blaise to hear. "He's going to fuck you now."

In that strange moment, Hermione realized that her own arousal was still in high gear. She shivered at the excitement in Daphne's eyes. She almost wanted to lean forward and kiss her.

"He's probably going to be rough," Daphne whispered with a giggle. "You've got him really excited." The bed shifted with Blaise's weight. He was crawling up behind her, finally naked, she presumed. "You should see his cock right now."

Hermione could imagine it. She licked her lips. Her arse was on fire, but everything else was on fire, too. It was a surreal feeling. The thought of Blaise's excitement did the same thing to her now that it had done that night they first discussed all of this. She fed off of it. More than anything, she wanted to feel him lose his treasured self-control.

Daphne smiled at her wickedly. "Now put your arse up in the air like a good little whore."

"Fucking. Hell." It was Blaise's voice, huskier than she had ever heard it.

"That's right, Blaise," Daphne taunted him. "You've got two wet cunts spread out right in front of you. You must be feeling pretty smug. Bet you wish you could fuck them both, don’t you?"

Hermione felt thrill race through her. She could imagine what he was seeing right now: Daphne's wet slit on bottom and hers on top, all framed by the redness of her freshly spanked ass. The image had to be driving him crazy. It was driving her crazy, and she couldn't even see it.

"Arch your back, Granger. Spread your legs wider." His commands had never sounded so breathy. Amused, she moved to obey. "Yeah, just like that."

He entered her slowly. It seemed he was being much more careful than usual. She gritted her teeth, feeling him stretching her. His cock always felt enormous in this position, which meant that she must feel pretty tight to him. But she knew that wasn't the only thing he liked about this position. He liked the dominance of it. He liked being able to see what he was doing to her. And even the urbane Zabini liked the animalistic quality of this type of sex. Hermione would never admit it, but she liked it, too.

He thrust a few times and almost immediately pulled back out, groaning.

"What's the matter, Blaise?" Daphne asked in a teasing tone.

"Nothing," he snapped. Then, as though to prove it, he buried himself inside Hermione and slowly started thrusting in earnest.

It was the strangest feeling – having Blaise drive into her from behind while she stared down into Daphne's curious face. Normally she considered this position to be the opposite of intimate. When it was just the two of them, all she could do was press her face into a pillow and take whatever Blaise did to her. There was no reading his emotions on his face, and actually, he could have been anyone. She could have been anyone to him. Or just a wet cunt. Sometimes – and she felt sick to her stomach to admit it – that was the appeal.

Now, however, she had an encouraging face in front of her. It suddenly didn't matter that it was the face of another woman. It was someone – anyone – with whom she could be intimate during this savagery of her body. Daphne's eyes widened just a moment before Hermione acted, as though they were reading each other's minds. Then Hermione lowered her lips to Daphne's and began a slow, rhythmic kiss.

It didn't last long. Whether from impending orgasm or from hearing them moan into their kiss, Blaise's thrusts became so intense that they put her entire body into motion. Hermione's breath caught in her lungs at the sharpness of the sensation.

"Oh dear," Daphne said. Her expression was a mix of awe and pity. "He's really giving it to you good now, isn't he? Someone's going to be sore tomorrow."

"Stop it, Daphne." Blaise's voice was strained, but it held an undeniable note of warning.

"Uh-oh, do you hear that?" Daphne teased. Then, with an evil grin, she said in a stage whisper to Hermione, "I don't think he's going to last very long."

Hermione could feel an evil grin spreading across her own lips now. It had never occurred to her that Blaise might have a weakness for dirty talk, too. She wondered why she'd never considered it. Of course he wanted to hear about how sexy and powerful he was. Of course he wanted to hear about how much she loved his big cock. She almost kicked herself. She could have always had so much power in this very position, if only she hadn't felt too embarrassed to wield it.

"Blaise, you poor thing!" Daphne continued to taunt him. He was now releasing the most uncharacteristic grunts. "He finally has what he's always wanted, and he can't hold himself off."

"Shut up, Daphne. Shut up!" He was so close. Hermione could hear it.

It gave Hermione an idea. She threw back her head and moaned, tossing her hair back towards Blaise. In response, his hands dug into her hips painfully. She started to groan out words in time with his thrusts. "Can't… take it… much… longer." It was a lie, of course, but she knew what Blaise wanted to hear. She shouted dramatically. "It feels… like his cock… Ah! Feels like…. he's splitting me… in two!"

It worked like a charm. Blaise released an inhuman growl and pulled out, and a few glorious seconds later, he was spurting all over her back. In all their time together, he had never come inside her, and she never questioned why. He grabbed Hermione's shoulder then, steadying himself. His growls continued, the tremors in his legs shaking the bed. 

Daphne was looking up at her with the proudest look on her face. They both started chuckling at the same time – Hermione partially from exhaustion and Daphne because, well, it seemed she liked to laugh.

"Did he make a mess?" Daphne inquired.

"You know it," Hermione responded, feeling the stickiness of his come pooling in her lower back.

Blaise fell onto his back beside them. He tossed one arm over his face. He looked amazing. His dark skin was glistening with sweat from his exertion, and his chest swelled with the heaviness of his panting breaths. His cock listed to one side but was still rock hard.

Hermione crawled off of Daphne and grabbed a pillow to wipe her back the best she could. Then she stretched out, propped on one elbow, with Daphne between them. She waited for whatever came next. Was it over? Hermione knew that she was probably not going to climax again. Blaise certainly looked done for. But Daphne had not come, and it seemed unfair for her to not come – unfair to Daphne, but also to Hermione and Blaise, who had both presented themselves to the others in that vulnerable state.

As she watched, Daphne's hand slipped over Blaise's thigh and wrapped around his cock. He whined softly at the contact, but he didn't turn to look at her. It was as though he had expected that touch. But when she squeezed, it earned her a half-hearted _'fucking bitch'_ from him. She ignored it. She glanced at Hermione and said to her, in a voice thick with desire, "I'd like to use his cock to get off."

Blaise gave a desperate chuckle.

"Can you do that?" Hermione wondered aloud. She knew it was a naïve thing to ask, but she was curious.

"Oh yes," Daphne said. "He'll stay hard for me." She sounded like she knew from experience. Then her face was solemn. "If you don't mind, that is."

Hermione was taken back. It was a respectful thing to ask, especially considering that she and Blaise were not exclusive. But she understood what Daphne was really asking. Daphne wanted to know if she could have him all to herself, without any interruption from Hermione.

"I don't mind." Hermione licked her lips. She had never watched two people have sex right in front of her. She was afraid it might be awkward. She was afraid she might be jealous. But in the end, she let it go. "You should," she added with a nod.

And then Daphne proceeded as though Hermione wasn't even in the room. Blaise, too, ignored Hermione as Daphne straddled him. She guided his cock to her entrance and lowered herself on it, releasing a series of breathy sighs. Blaise groaned in a way that made Hermione wonder if it was uncomfortable for him. He threw back his head. His neck was a long column, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"Don't take too long," he said. He didn't say _please_ , but the word was buried in his tone.

"Won't take long," she assured him. Her giggling was gone. They were both suddenly very serious.

He moved his arm away from his face, but he refused to look at either of them. He kept his eyes closed, his tongue darting out occasionally to wet his lips. Daphne immediately started riding him, apparently having little care for his comfort or feelings. Blaise's face screwed up tightly as though in pain. 

Hermione mined her emotions for traces of arousal or envy, but she discovered that she felt nothing but mild interest in the scene before her. She felt completely satisfied. Why shouldn't they have their moment? Daphne had to be exhausted. Blaise looked exhausted. They had both put so much of their energy into _her_ tonight. She understood that.

When Daphne's hips began bucking more wildly, Blaise finally opened his eyes. He stared up at her, and although he wore the same poker face as always, he made small gestures that surprised Hermione. He lifted his hands and gently caressed Daphne's body. His fingers toyed with her nipples. His hands tenderly curled around her hips, thumbs rubbing circles on her hipbones. She had her head thrown back and her eyes closed, but Blaise was watching her closely.

At that moment, Hermione realized that they had both been lying. These two people had definitely had sex with each other more than once. They knew each others' bodies well. Furthermore, they seemed to have a kind of grudging respect for each other. Hermione didn't know if she should feel jealous or not. For some reason, she didn't. She had things in her life that they would never have.

Daphne's orgasm seemed relatively unremarkable when viewed from a distance. Daphne leaned forward, grabbing Blaise by the shoulders, and rode through it soundlessly. Blaise stared at the ceiling, biting down on his lip. And then Daphne rolled off to his side and snuggled against him.

Hermione wanted to snuggle against him, too, even though part of her was disgusted by the thought of him lying sated between two adoring women. She pushed those feelings aside. She hadn't been envious of their coupling, but she would be damned if Daphne would get the afterglow all to herself. Hermione scooted over and cuddled against Blaise, throwing her knee over his thigh, and Blaise wrapped his arm around her instinctively.

He was still staring at the ceiling when Hermione closed her eyes.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, they were both gone. She took her time getting dressed. The room was a disaster, as it usually was after a night with Blaise. Add Daphne to the mix, and the club-elves had their work cut out for them. The thought of it made Hermione scowl, but she needed a good cleaning, herself – a long, hot bath was calling her name.

There were pillows everywhere, some of them arranged in piles that seemed to make no sense. She winced when she noticed the pillow she had used to clean herself off. The bedding was a tangled mess, and the area rug was askew. The candles were gone, and instead, a low light shone from the chandelier. 

She found herself thinking the same thought as always. It wasn't regret, which probably should have troubled her. It was curiosity over whether tonight had been the last time she would be with Blaise. Frankly, she had thought the first time would be the last. She wasn't fool enough to think that he would wait around forever for her to return that tarot card to him. He was king of the jungle in this place, and she was sure he would move along when he grew bored. She hoped they could have a few more adventures together before that happened.

She took the card out of her pocket and leaned against the door, studying the image. There was something about it that puzzled her more than anything else. Blaise's deck was full of images of lovers in various compromising positions, but Hermione had drawn one of the few cards that depicted a lone woman. Even in such a dangerous position, the woman seemed in control of her own response. Self-assured. Lost in ecstasy.

Hermione realized that she had allowed herself to feel that way this evening.

She walked over to the bed and set the card down on the messy bedcovers.

Then she laughed. Lying there at the foot of the bed was a butterscotch lollipop. She unwrapped it and gave it a long, slow suck.

_The End_


End file.
